


Vandalism

by awkward_ace



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 08:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkward_ace/pseuds/awkward_ace
Summary: With his retirement from the military imminent, Cullen stands with his unit for one last inspection during Family Day at the base they are stationed at. It's going well, just as he thought, and his family is there having a good time. One would think there was no possible way that his partner could get them in trouble while doing so.He is mistaken about that.





	Vandalism

**Author's Note:**

> I know Cullen only has a canon nephew, but I gave him a niece too, because double the trouble. Everybody needs a partner-in-crime. They're both Branson's kids.

** Go-o-o-od morning, Fereldan! **

 

It is mid-morning and already _hot_.

Not just uncomfortably warm, perhaps we might get a spot of lemonade and fan ourselves in the shade and lounge hot, but _hot_ —the sort of hot that has sweat trickling down spines and temples within minutes, the kind of hot that is baking and boiling and no one in their right mind should be out in.

Naturally, it was just the sort of hot that any military establishment worth its camouflage planned their “Annual Family Weekend” for, and then proceeded to fill the base with family-friendly things like dunk-tanks, bounce houses, games, and tents of food right next to the slightly-less family-friendly things like tanks and Frostback and Mystral class helicopters.

So, while people in civilian dress milled around the family-friendly entertainment, more parked themselves as comfortably as they could on the tarp-shaded bleachers that were yanked out once a year, creaking and slightly rusted, to watch the men and women of Ferelden’s military assigned to the base stand for inspection, every brass button and black boot polished.

Somewhere in that mire of people and heat-haze coming up from the tarmac was the frightening thought that was the combination of the Rutherford and Lavellan clans. Cullen’s siblings and parents attended this stupid thing every year, now that he let them, and he had Pria and Haldir Lavellan to thank for that.

He was pretty sure he saw them sitting on the bleachers, a small pack of wheat-to-honey-gold hair oddly dotted with auburn and sable.

He would’ve been more annoyed about it _if_ he wasn’t so close to formal retirement and _if_ he hadn’t spent the majority of the night before with Pria in her hotel room. He would’ve been more annoyed about it if his niece and nephew weren’t having such a damn good time bouncing themselves silly, dunking anyone who dared enter the dunking booth, and gorging themselves on funnel cake and sausage rolls.

He’d thought their hearts would stop when he’d offered to show them the inside of a tank and a Mystral.

They both sported a plastic set of flight wings very proudly on their t-shirts.

“Atten- _tion_!” came a familiar roar, and Cullen, along with his unit behind him, snapped straight, arms locking to their sides and boots clicking together faintly as heels met.

He was glad for the partial shade his hat gave his eyes, even if he was sweltering in the thick cotton and wool-blend of his uniform. Not having the sun glaring his vision made it easier to watch Lieutenant General Hamish Woolsley prowl down the line comprised of the four units that operated on the base. “The Ram”, they all called him behind his back with a small-measure of affection; partially a smartass quip on his name, partially for the impressive mustache the man had, and all for his hard-headed willingness to do anything and everything to get the job done and to see the men and women under his command _home_ safely. The Lt. General had a sterling reputation for “butting heads” regularly with his superiors, and no one was sure if he literally did or not—but they wouldn’t put it past him.

 Cullen had served under much worse officers and he would be a little sorry to say good-bye to this one.

The other three Commanders on base had already suffered their inspection, and now it was Cullen’s turn. He would only be _a little_ sorry to say good-bye.

“Commander Rutherford,” Woolsley harrumphed as he arrived, eyeing him shrewdly. “Family here this year?”

“Sir,” Cullen replied, “They are, sir.”

“Well, let’s have who, then.”

“My parents, sisters, and brother, sir. And my girlfriend and best friend.”

“That by any chance the long-haired elf who popped up out of nowhere and fly tackled you yesterday?”

Of course Woolsley had heard about that. Cullen made a mental note to drop Haldir in the dunk-tank later.

“Yes, sir.”

Woolsley made a noise somewhere between a snort and a snicker, “Any of these Dogs behind you going to embarrass you during this inspection, Commander?”

A standard question that he’d answered countless times before. At previous postings, he’d never been as sure of his answer as he was here. The War Dogs were one of the best units in operation currently, and only took in the unruly transfers other units didn’t want or couldn’t handle. If they didn’t make it six months with the Dogs and their Commander, then they were cut loose.

“Not a chance in hell,” Cullen said, “But feel free to try and find something. Sir.”

“Cheeky,” Woolsley grumbled, and then began his characteristic stalk up and down the lines, looking for the slightest hint of loose discipline, the single un-polished button, a hair out of place. A missed spot while shaving. A snicker or a smirk that was sneaking out as he made dramatic muttering and huffing sounds.

He arrived back in front of Cullen ten minutes later, mustache twitching. “Tell your Dogs to loosen up, will you,” he grumped.

“Captain,” Cullen said, felt Rylen’s presence behind him focus on his back, “Tell the Dogs to heel.”

“At _ease_!” Rylen roared, and there was a unified thud as the unit obeyed, feet sliding shoulder-width apart and hands clasped loosely behind them.

“Can’t bloody well believe you have the _gall_ to retire, Commander,” Woolsley shook his head, “Loosing one of my best officers.”

“Thank you, sir. But if you want to argue against my retirement, you’ll have to take it up with my girlfriend and sister.” It would be amusing to watch the Lt. General argue with Pria and Mia and it was almost tempting. _Almost._

“Don’t tempt me,” came the querulous rebuttal and then the Lt. General was circling him; they both knew that he would find nothing out of place, so it was of little surprise when he came back to the front and saluted.

“At ease, Commander.”

Cullen returned the salute before letting himself relax, hands falling behind his back as he obeyed. Then he saw Woolsley’s eyes flicker down towards his neck and the man frowned, much to his mystification.

“Rutherford,” he said after a moment. “What is that.”

“Sir?”

“ _That_ ,” he repeated, tapping Cullen’s collar.

For a long moment, Cullen was confused and wondered if perhaps the heat was getting to the old man. Then he remembered Pria’s mouth latching onto his neck when they were finally alone, her teeth biting playfully. How he’d wiped away traces of her purple-red lipstick this morning before dressing, barely noting the scattering of similarly colored love-bites she’d left behind.

He felt his face grow warmer and hoped that he could blame the sun for blush that he knew was rising.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any idea what you mean, Sir,” he said flatly, not sure how the situation would go and really not at all inclined to discuss what he and Pria might or might not get up to during their private time.

“That, Commander, looks like a bruise,” Woolsley informed, “With some teeth marks. You know what that is? Damage to the sub-dermal layers of tissue. A contusion. Bleeding under the skin.”

Cullen was entirely aware of that a bruise _was_ , and as it happened, he had rather _enjoyed_ getting the one that was currently under scrutiny. He was unaware of what the hell the old Ram was getting at.

“Sir?” he ventured after a moment, raising an eyebrow slightly, “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Your girlfriend arrived yesterday, I assume?”

“What—uhm—yes, Sir.”

“I see. Rutherford, does your girlfriend have a mobile?”

“…Yes…?”

“Do you have yours on you, Rutherford?”

Cullen hesitated. _Technically_ none of them were supposed to have their mobiles on them while on-duty. This technicality did not stop them from slipping a sturdily-cased phone into the oh-so-perfectly-sized thigh pocket of their uniform pants.

Woolsley rolled his eyes and held out his hand, “Do us both credit and pull her number up, hm?”

“Sir?”

“Dammit, Rutherford, _now_!”

Cullen allowed himself to stare at the man, wide-eyed, for a moment before ripping the Velcro of his pocket open and pulling out his phone, glancing at the Lt. General again as he unlocked the screen and pulled up Pria’s contact before setting it in his outstretched hand. “The green button, Sir.”

“Yes, thank you, I know how to use one of these confounded things—Rutherford, does your girlfriend have a _habit_ of cuddling dangerous animals?”

Ah. That would explain what Pria had been doing with his phone this morning while he was shaving. Changing her contact picture—he assumed it was of the one that featured her straddling a rather large alligator, having just successfully wrestled it out of a residential pool before relocating it.

This was the same person who would squeak and refuse to go into a room that contained a spider until he had captured and released it outside.

“Among other habits, Sir,” he replied honestly with an affectionately exasperated eye-roll.

Woolsley squinted at him, frowning, before he hit the call button and placed the phone to his ear.

Cullen belatedly realized he probably should have warned the Lt. General that Pria Lavellan had certain _authority issues._

“This should be good,” Rylen muttered just behind him, and a contained hiss of a snicker rippled through the rest of the War Dogs.

Cullen belatedly realized that any embarrassment he was liable to suffer today would not come from his unit’s antics, but would, in fact, come from the antics and willful nature of the person he had decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” he muttered under his breath.

*-*-*-*

Pria had just arrived back at their places on the bleachers when the phone in her back pocket went off. “Shit,” she muttered, and half-turned, “Hal, can you grab that for me? Rosie, here.”

“Oh, _thank you_ ,” Rosalie said fervently, taking the cold plastic cup.

“Uh. Poco learned a magic trick,” Haldir observed, having fished the device from her pocket, “Somehow he’s calling you despite doing the Thing.”

She glanced at the screen, saw the familiar, lop-sided smile of Cullen flashing at her. “My man has talent,” she shrugged, and handed the drink carrier to her cousin, “Here, finish dishing those out.”

“Tell him I wish to know the secret of his magic hands,” Haldir replied, getting to his feet to hand out cold drinks and cones of chips.

She grinned and flopped down onto the bleacher, accepting the call, “Hey, sexy. How are you doing this while you’re on inspection? Haldir want to know, something about the secret of your magic hands.”

There was a cough and a sputter at the other end of the line and Pria realized that _it was not Cullen_.

Oops.

“Is this Rutherford’s girlfriend I’m speaking to?”

She raised an eyebrow, “Which one?”

“ _Which_ \--?”

Faintly, she heard a groaned “Maker’s breath” over the line. Cullen. Perhaps she ought to behave, until she knew what was going on. Haldir caught her eye and tilted his head curiously; she shrugged.

“Pria Lavellan, his _only_ girlfriend,” she conceded. Haldir raised an eyebrow and slid onto the bench beside her, leaning in to listen against the other side of the phone.

“Ah. Right,” a professional clearing of the throat, “Miss Lavellan—”

“Mx.”

“Beg pardon?”

“ _Mx_. Not ‘miss’. Ends with an ‘x’ sound.”

“… _Mx_ …?”

“Close enough.”

Haldir covered his mouth to muffle a snort.

“Mx Lavellan, do you have any idea why I’ve called?”

“You’re selling candy. Cookies. Wrapping paper! Awful popcorn? Magazine subscriptions! Oooh, is there going to be a calendar fundraiser with somewhat naughty pictures? I’ll buy twelve. One for each month!”

“Miss Lavellan--!”

“ _Mx._ ”

“ _Mx_ Lavellan, this is a very serious matter and I would appreciate--!”

“I’d appreciate it if you got off my boyfriend’s phone and got back to whatever it is so this inspection thing can be over.”

“Yes, about the inspection—”

“Less talking, more inspecting. Unless you need my help for Cullen, in which case I will gladly do your job for you. Better than you could.”

Another sputtering sound. Haldir snorted again and had to turn away, shoulders shaking. She wondered if Cullen was blushing yet, or perhaps looking towards the sky prayerfully. She was sure he was completely aware of what was happening.

“Mx Lavellan—”

“ _Bored_ ,” she sing-songed, and hung up.

Haldir finally burst out laughing, which prompted every Rutherford to turn and looked back at them curiously. “What are you up to?” Branson said dryly.

“Nothing!” Pria replied with a bright smile.

“ ** _PRIA LAVELLAN REPORT FOR INSPECTION ON THE TARMAC IMMEDIATELY._** ”

She froze, eyes wide.

As one, the Rutherfords looked towards the tarmac and back to her, nearly identical expressions of skepticism on their face.

Haldir only laughed harder.

“What did you _do_?” Mia demanded.

“Nothing…?” Pria said again, much less certain.

“Considering two of Cull’s boys are coming this way, I don’t believe you,” Branson put in dryly.

They (and everyone else in the bleachers) watched as two soldiers from among the Dogs marched up and came to stand beside them. Barris and Rylen, she recalled, having met them briefly several times before at the pub. She liked them.

“Right,” Haldir gasped, wiping his eyes, “Please tell me Nona was mouthing off to Poco’s boss.”

“She was definitely mouthing off to the Commander’s boss,” Rylen confirmed with an impish grin. “And he sent us to get you.”

John raised an eyebrow before prudently looking down and away to hide his amusement. “Poor sod,” she thought she heard him say. Ellen bit back her smile and gently thwapped her husband’s shoulder.

“So, if you would,” Barris said, tilting his head towards the tarmac.

“What if I say no,” Pria tested, wondering just what the hell was happening and what really was the worst that could happen if she didn’t go along with this high-and-mighty-man’s demands.

“Well,” Barris ventured, thoughtfully, “You could. Absolutely. And we won’t make you. But if you _don’t_ , he’ll probably keep the Commander and the rest of us out there a bit yet.”

“Please come with us,” Rylen added, “I _really_ want to see what’s about to happen.”

“And what’s about to happen?” Mia asked.

“The old Ram is about to meet the Commander’s girlfriend is what’s about to happen.”

“I think that’s a compliment,” Pria grumbled. Haldir slung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, gently butting his forehead against her temple, “Go with them and get our idiot shem out of this heat. You know he isn’t a fan, delicate flower he is. And maybe take over this bit of the Ferelden military while you’re at it.”

“Right, I’m in,” Branson said, “I want to see this.”

“Bran,” Ellen scolded softly.

“Seconded,” Mia and Rosalie added. Ellen rolled her eyes and smiled, “My children.”

“Is Pria about to initiate a coup?” Jessa wondered aloud.

“Did she teach you that word?” Rosalie asked.

“I did,” Haldir admitted, “And I’m not sorry.”

“Is this the point when I yell ‘ _viva la revolution_ ’?” James said.

“It absolutely is,” Haldir replied.

“ _No,_ ” Branson interjected, “Maker’s balls, Hal, _please stop teaching my kids revolutionary tactics._ ”

“No way, _ma falon._ ”

“Then at least wait until they’re a little older.”

“…I’ll consider it.”

“My grandchildren,” John chuckled.

Barris offered a hand and Pria shrugged, “Eh, fuck it. Alright, I’ll go along—give me just a minute, boys, I need to fix my lipstick.”

*-*-*-*

Cullen watched with no small amount of sympathy as Lt. General Woolsley attempted to take charge of the conversation he was having with Pria. He liked to think that maybe he could have told the old Ram where he’d gone wrong, but he knew that speaking with a Lavellan was something that one had to learn on the fly and through plentiful experience.

So far, every single one of them he’d met had been their own sort of force of reckoning, and they tended to dislike being barked at and ordered around.

He watched puzzlement give way to bewildered frustration on the man’s face before going to shocked as he jerked the phone from his ear. “What—I never—she _hung up on me_!”

Yup. That sounded about right.

“Pria Lavellan on the tarmac, now!” He snarled at one of the nearby soldiers, shoving Cullen’s phone back to him. The soldier jumped and hustled over to radio in the message to the communication office.

“That girlfriend of yours,” Woolsley glowered. “I’m not sure I approve.”

Cullen tucked his phone away and folded his pocket closed. “I think she’d say the same about you, Sir.”

“ ** _PRIA LAVELLAN REPORT FOR INSPECTION ON THE TARMAC IMMEDIATELY._** ”

He winced as the PA system blared and squeaked and felt his stomach shrivel up on itself. Then he saw the smug smile that made its way onto Woolsley’s face.

Oh, no.

“Send two of your Dogs to escort her, will you? So we can get this straightened out.”

Oh, _no_.

The old man had _no idea_ what he was doing.

“Sir—”

“That’s an order, Rutherford.”

He sighed in resignation. Well. She’d technically gotten them both into this with her lovely and enthusiastic mouth, that same mouth might as well get them _out_.

“Rylen. Barris. If you would go—”

The two men practically leapt out of line, setting off at a smart trot with a quick, “Yes, _sir_!” Cullen frowned slightly.

They were _too eager_.

Maker help them all.

“Sir,” he tried again, “What, _exactly_ —”

“Quiet in the line, Commander!” Woolsley said sharply.

Okay, this was how this ended. Of course it was, one last fun SNAFU before he retired, why not. Maker help him, he was even looking forward to it, a little bit, because it was _Pria_ and any of the odd, troublesome things that rolled through with her were always _fun_.

Cullen perked up slightly as he heard footsteps, his breath drawing in a little sharply and a pleasant buzz running down his back as he looked over. _Maker, I’m a lucky man_.

Pria had worn the cute little jean shorts he liked—they showed nearly every inch of her long, pretty, tattooed legs and had a bright yellow, glittering star patch on the back right pocket. It was the same pocket his hand always somehow found its way into.

And she’d worn her “ass-stomping” boots as Haldir called them, old, well-worn black things with lazily fastened buckle-straps and the laces untied. It seemed either Jessa or James had gotten ahold of them at some point because colorful plastic beads now dotted the crossed laces here and there.

Her eyes found him and she smiled, stopped near him as Barris and Rylen took their places back in formation. “Hi, babe,” she said.

He smiled.

“Mx Lavellan, I take it?” Woolsley inquired, “Wonderful. So good of you to join us.”

“Well, I did get two very nice looking fellows as an escort so I figured I might as well. Woolsley, right?”

“ _Lieutenant General_ ,” he corrected firmly.

“Can I just use ‘LG’ because that’s a lot of title.”

Cullen bit the inside of his cheek to hide a grin, heard the muffled snorts starting behind him. Woolsley’s face was, for a moment, comically indecisive. On the one hand, he was a _Lieutenant General_ and very much insisted on the proper use of rank—on the other hand, his face clearly said something about ‘LG’ appealed to some part of him.

“No,” he decided a moment later, and pointed to Cullen, “Mx Lavellan, do you know what _that_ is?”

She looked from Woolsley to Cullen and back, “That’s a Cullen. My partner. ‘Commander’ is probably what you’re looking for.”

“That is correct—and while the Commander is on duty and on this base, he is technically property of the Fereldan government.”

Cullen saw the slight clench of Pria’s jaw and internally shook his head. If he could tell the Lt. General the number of arguments _that_ particular phrasing had brought around…

“And _this_ , Mx Lavellan?” Woolsley continued, stepping nearer to him and indicating his collar. “Can you tell me what you see here?”

Her ears perked faintly, then one flicked down slightly and to the side as she tilted her head in puzzlement. She took a couple steps closer and Cullen could just catch the barest hint of rosemary and cardamom from her hair; then her fingertips were gently pulling at his collar, tugging it down and it was all he could do to keep from shivering.

She stared.

And then looked at Woolsley. “Are you fucking serious?”

*-*-*-*

“Are you fucking serious?” Pria demanded, looking away from the hickey that marred Cullen’s skin to Woolsley. “You called me down here for _this_?”

“Mx!” Woolsley bellowed, “I called you down here because you have damaged government property!”

Pria’s ears began to ring, and a few choice words began to dance up her throat—and then she heard Cullen choke back a snort of amusement. Her head whipped around and she looked back at him, looking for any sign of discomfort or irritation.

Aside from a flush to his cheeks and ears that belied his embarrassment at his private life being glimpsed, she found nothing of the sort. Rather, his eyes were crinkled slightly at the corners, the scarred corner of his mouth twitching up into a barely concealed smirk. “For shame, Kitten,” he murmured. “Such _vandalism._ ”

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” Woolsley demanded. “Commander Rutherford is one of my finest officers and I will _not_ have him reporting for duty battered and mangled!”

“Hardly mangled,” Barris murmured, and the men nearest him heaved quietly with barely-restrained giggles.

“Is this how you end up with bruised ribs?” Pria asked.

“What!” Woolsley grumped.

“Yes,” Cullen replied.

“Rutherford.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

Pria turned back to Woolsley, “Right. So I’m in trouble I take it. For damaging government property.”

“You are, indeed.”

“How much?”

“Quite a bit! Because he’s—”

“ _Government property_ , yes, alright, I get it. Is it safe to say, then, that I can’t really get in _more_ trouble?”

“Oh, shit,” Rylen snickered.

“Ssh!” Barris hissed back, “Don’t blow it!”

Woolsley squinted suspiciously, “…No, I shouldn’t think so, barring very, very dramatic action.”

“Hm,” Pria nodded thoughtfully, “Good to know. What’s the policy of PDA while in uniform?”

She glanced at Cullen, saw his smirk widening. His eyes flickered to hers and then down the length of her and back up again. They were a little heated when they met hers again.

It was nice to know he was on board, because he was probably going to get in trouble, too.

“Solid no,” Rylen supplied.

“Captain Rylen, keep it shut,” Cullen told him.

“What happened to the discipline this unit was showing not ten minutes ago?” Woolsley demanded.

“I have that effect on people,” Pria replied, smiling cheerfully, “Also, bite my elvhen ass, _mon general,_ I’mma do what I want to this man.”

And with that, and with a thunderous roar of approval and much boot-stomping from the assembled War Dogs, she seized a firm hold of Cullen’s collar and yanked him to her, kissing him hard and deep, biting at his lip playfully when she heard his sharp intake of breath and swallowing the approving groan he made as he leaned into her.

Distantly she noted that Lt. General Woolsley seemed to be roaring with laughter.

Cullen groaned quietly again, his tongue meeting the soft brush of hers before she pulled back to rub her nose against his. “Hey, Gorgeous,” she teased quietly when his eyes fluttered opened. He grinned, “Hey, yourself, Sweetness.”

“Love you.”

His grin widened and he kissed her again, softer, “I love you, too. But you should probably go before Woolsley has a coronary and so he can make me do push-ups or something.”

She smiled sheepishly and paused only long enough to wipe the smear of lipstick she’d left on his mouth clean with her thumb before stepping back. “Nice chat, Woolsley, sorry I’m not sorry, bye!” she said, all but prancing away.

*-*-*-*

Cullen’s reprieve lasted just long enough for him to take an indulgent moment or two to watch her backside as she skipped away, wondering if perhaps he might not be able to get her alone a little later in a private corner somewhere, before his attention was yanked back to the Lt. General in front of him, who finally straightened from his uproarious laughter.

“Well,” Woolsley said brusquely, “Rutherford. You certainly can pick them.”

“I’m aware, Sir.”

“I changed my mind. I approve. She’ll be good for you, keep you on your toes.”

“She already does, Sir.”

“Good. Now. You know the drill.”

“She started it, Sir.”

“Yes, but I suspect I’d have a hell of a time trying to make her do push-ups, where-as you won’t give me nearly as much trouble. So,” he waved his hand vaguely. “Get to, Commander.”

“How many, Sir?”

“Eh, let’s say twenty-five. One for every minute that I’ve just spent arguing with that girlfriend of yours.”

Cullen grinned despite himself. “Yes, Sir,” he agreed and dropped to the ground.

Woolsley glanced in the direction Pria had gone, scratching his chin thoughtfully, “Any chance whatsoever of recruiting that one? She’d be good.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Barris replied, “You’d be out of a job.”

**Author's Note:**

> I found a little thing on Pinterest that gave a synopsis of this happening to someone and it delighted me so much, this happened.
> 
> I keep learning new things about Pria, and it always surprises me because just as I think I've really gotten their character figured out, they surprise me with something new about themselves. I think that might be one of my favorite things about writing, is getting to know my characters and them surprising me. I also love Woolsley, and he is absolutely named after the demonic ram, because that side-quest delights me to no end. RESPECT HIS AUTHORITY. RESPECT IT.


End file.
